Give Strength to Love to Grow
by DarkPoisonousLove
Summary: Marion is plagued by thoughts about the seventeen years she missed from her daughters' lives that only bring her pain and she can't find the strength to see the good in the situation. But she's no longer separated from her girls and she can finally get the help she didn't want to admit she needed.


**A/N: I haven't written Daphne before so I am not really sure how that turned out. I would really appreciate it if you'd let me know. :)**

Marion watched the water in the pool, her gaze intently drinking in its stillness. It had a presence to it even when there were no motions to make it flow and it complemented the restlessness of her inner flames in the otherwise quiet and hibernated palace. It also reminded her so much of Bloom's eyes that were the only part she could still recognize of her daughter, pools of passion and reflections of her own as they were. But other than that her own baby was a stranger to her because she wasn't a baby anymore. She'd grown, so much, and she'd turned out so beautiful, and Marion hadn't been there to see any of that. She hadn't had the chance to be her mom.

The water rippled and for a moment Marion thought that she was hallucinating because of the hurricane in her own mind that was making her see things but the movement continued, only gaining momentum and the power that was causing it revealed its origin with its familiarity. Sparks of light filled the water just in time with the dawning realization and joined in one to make her smile despite the potent pain filling her heart the way the view in front of her illuminated everything around.

"Daphne," Marion said as her daughter emerged above the surface in a surprise that would've made her happy at any other moment but now it just made her worry more. And ache, if it was even possible for that sensation to grow stronger.

"Mother," Daphne greeted, a gentleness in her voice that cut through Marion with how sharply it contrasted with the booming, angry thoughts in her own head. She'd been worried she'd wake everyone else up with those but they all slept peacefully so maybe they had nothing clawing at them and keeping them awake. And she was happy if that was the case because she could barely handle the war in her head and the last thing she wanted was for it to affect someone else or for anyone else to understand how she felt. It would be too cruel to wish the same pain on another person.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, hoping that the roughness of her voice that had been worn through by her inner fight that was like sandpaper scraping parts of it away until it was raw and bleeding wouldn't make her sound like she didn't want to see her daughter. She did. She did want to see her, not like that, but she wanted to look at her and touch her and hold her in her arms once more after all the years they'd lost. And despite the change in her, she still knew all of her little girl, knew just how to hug her and how her face fit in her hands, knew what made her smile and what would hurt her, knew how to love her and be a mother to her. Unlike with Bloom where she didn't know anything about her. She'd known just how to hold her baby in her arms one second so that it would be safe and comfortable for both of them and the next she'd been holding a beautiful young woman, the contact filling her with panic at the thought that she had no idea if she wasn't suffocating or hurting her daughter.

"I sensed that you needed me," Daphne said as she came closer in front of her but refrained from touching, giving her time and space to adjust to the situation first, and to her words. She'd managed to disturb her daughter with the loudness of her thoughts but Daphne still remained as careful and considerate as she could remember her. It made her proud and it made her want to weep, and that duality had become painfully familiar to her in the short time since they'd been freed from Obsidian.

"I'm fine," Marion said, feeling a pang of guilt for lying to Daphne but convinced that that was the right thing to do. And not just because she'd been taught to never show her emotions. Daphne had been through enough already and she wanted to protect her daughter now that she could finally do it again and be there for her. She needed to shield her from further pain, not pour out her own on her. What kind of parent would selfishness like that make her?

"You don't have to hide from me, mama," Daphne said softly as she raised her hand to touch her face, the contact startling with the lack of skin on her own to accompany the softness of her daughter's presence and it instantly drew tears from her, for she was so beautiful, so kind, independent and strong and it was so unfair that she was tied to a lake that kept her mostly separated from her family, from all the love she could get, from living all the life she still had. She would be a blessing to everything she touched, yet she was the victim of a powerful curse that came between them even now that all other obstacles were removed. But those seventeen years would never go away and would keep haunting them with the fact that Daphne was still a soul without a body and Bloom had grown so far away from them she hadn't even known about her origins, she hadn't known they'd loved her.

It all spilled from her eyes and Marion pressed a hand against her mouth to prevent the pain from falling out of there too and turned around, forcing Daphne to withdraw her touch but she had to protect her from the ugliness of the feelings flowing from her. Even if it felt like she was turning her back on her. She couldn't let her see her like that. She couldn't let herself be like that. She had to stop, had to hold on to what they still had and not get lost in what had been taken away. She couldn't let her misery pull her away from her girls now that she could finally be there for them.

"Tell me what's wrong, mom," Daphne asked as she put a hand on her shoulder, unafraid of the agony that was shaking her to her core, but even her soothing touch was not enough to combat everything that was wrong. Not when they didn't have the option to just stay in each other's embrace for the rest of the night and talk throughout it, not when she'd have to let go to return to her lake eventually. "Don't keep it inside. It only traps you, not the other way around."

The wise words only had her crying more over Daphne's pain that she'd lived through and she'd learned from but none of that should have happened to her in the first place. And she couldn't let herself let go even when it was true that was the only thing that could help her. She couldn't burden someone else–her precious daughter–with what she knew was pure torture.

Daphne moved–floated since that was her existence now–in front of her, taking her face in her hands and tilting her head up slowly to give their eyes the chance to meet. And it hurt to look at her like that. Not that she wasn't beautiful. She was still her perfect baby, but she couldn't even see the color of her irises anymore through the golden shine. And while she would never forget it, the amber sealed into her mind just like ambers themselves could preserve life in them, the lack of it was too painful a reminder that she couldn't touch her daughter anymore, not the way she'd been able to before, and she couldn't hold her in her arms for nearly as long. And Daphne's gentle and calm demeanor and the soft smile on her face as she held hers made her feel useless as a mother when her daughter was filling that role and doing her best to soothe her instead of seeking support from her. And she already felt too much like she was no mother to Bloom...

"You've given us all your strength," Daphne spoke, her voice steady and secure, as if she could read her thoughts and knew all the winded turns in them, could trace them with her fingers and ease the pain that came with them. "Let us, me, return the favor," Daphne said, the emotion coming from all of her reaching through to the deepest parts of Marion and making it impossible for her to refuse her request. Especially after she'd already had everything taken from her. She only wanted her to be happy and she had to believe that Daphne knew what would make her happy better than she did. Even if it made her feel even less like she deserved to still call herself her mother.

"I can't look at Bloom without being reminded of what was lost to us," she cried, the words spilling from her instantly once her resolve to hold them back had crumbled and the downpour scared her with its strength and left her afraid Daphne wouldn't be able to withstand it but it was too late. It all just kept flowing, the pain turning to words at last and making it impossible for her to keep swallowing it now that she'd sharpened its edges when she'd let it form letters in her mind. "She was a baby when I last saw her before Obsidian and now I'm faced with a young woman that looks so much like me but is a stranger." The last word echoed so hard against the walls, or maybe that was all happening in her mind, that it startled her, making her tense and shake again at the same time, heat scorching her at the intense shame spreading through her. "I'm proud of her and I love her. I do." Of course she did. Bloom was amazing, so strong and determined, and so incredibly charming with her curiosity and cheerfulness. There was no way for her not to love her more than her own life. "But I didn't see her grow, and there is just a hole in me where there were supposed to be seventeen years worth of memories and happiness. I feel like someone cut me out of my daughter's life only to add me back seventeen years later and watch me suffer the consequences." Her voice was shaking too much and had become too high-pitched, and she couldn't stand it anymore with how aware it made her of the weakness she was letting pour out on Daphne and drown her so she was happy she was interrupted by a wave of sobs. It was better that she drowned instead.

Daphne wiped her tears away instead of being afraid of them even though she didn't even have a body of her own and the calm and support she was exuding only made Marion cry more and reach to touch her, stroke her hair and try to let her know how much she loved and valued her, and how astonished she was by her strength. And she wished she could find that same strength in herself so that she wouldn't have to count on her daughter to be her rock. It wasn't fair to her after all the other things she'd had to go through on her own. Just because she could be her support didn't mean that she had to and Marion wanted to make sure she wouldn't have to hold her hand any longer than she already had.

"We can't change the past, mama," Daphne said, the words making her heart jolt as if from static but it only sparked life in her, for her girl was so mature, yet still talked to her like she once had when she'd been little and Marion had been her role model, the one she'd looked up to and asked for advice. She still talked to her like she was her daughter and that was the best thing, the biggest reassurance that Marion could wish for. "But you'll still see Bloom grow," Daphne continued, most likely having noted the change in her and trying to keep the effect. "She has so much more to learn and her journey is far from over, and she'll need you. She'll need you, and me, and dad, and we'll all be there for her because we're her family and we're together," she said, making more sobs spill from Marion which she hated as they were getting in the way of the words trying to reach her, but the tears that accompanied them she didn't really mind as they were slowly shifting from being charged with infectious anguish to carrying happiness at the thought of what they still got to have. "And you've always been there for her in the strength and character you've given her simply by being her mother," Daphne said, making a smile break out from under all those layers and layers of agony that had been suffocating her for years.

"How are you so incredible?" Marion asked as she cupped Daphne's cheek and hoped the softness and lightness she could feel all inside was coming through in the touch. She would've never found peace without Daphne's reassurances and she wanted to show her how grateful she was to have her as her daughter. All the pain she'd been through had been worth it now that she'd gotten the chance to see her girls again and hold on to them, embrace them and give them all the love they needed.

"Because I'm your daughter and I have you as my mother," Daphne said and hugged her and she knew she was home. Even if it felt a little different. Even if it could still be painful. She was home and she had her family once more. She had her daughters to look after and her husband to love her and she was once again the happiest woman to have that.


End file.
